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  • Mommy-ing

    3 Lessons from my Birth Story: Cesarean Section Delivery

    Fast forward three months after my birth story, I now have a precious healthy baby boy. Leading up to delivery, nerves of excitement filled my mind as well as many questions about what my birth story would unfold. Like all mothers, my birth story was a unique one. I’m happy to share along with three lessons I learned.

    Birth- Noun|the start of life as a physically separate being



    I learned about the bleak challenges that effect Black women’s maternal health prior to learning I was pregnant. For example, African American women are three to four times more likely to die during or after delivery than are white women. During my pregnancy, I tried to stay away from the dark truths in articles surrounding the mistreatment of black women during pregnancy and delivery in fear that they would cause me to be in a constant state of panic. Slightly educated, however, I made it a point to make my pregnancy as blackity black as possible. I wanted a black doctor, a black nurse, my black family, and black Jesus to surround my every milestone. Sadly though, all blackity black everything did not ornate the sudden emergence of my precious baby boy.

    Break it Down, B:

    We wanted a black women physician because we hoped we would gain more empathy and understanding towards our fears and our excitement. We learned later the doctor we chose had a nonchalant attitude. I wonder now, if after so many years in the medical profession if people become desensitized to the humane aspect of their jobs, but I digress. Sadly, as time and my belly grew, the nonchalant attitude of my doctor did not change.

    Luckily, during the process we met another doctor. What I did not know before having a child, was that any doctor in the practice could deliver my baby. The person who would help bring my child into the world would be based solely on scheduling. After learning this fact, I made it my duty to set appointments with all of the doctors in the practice. I really liked one. We’ll call her the “lit doctor”–she was also black. Talking to her put my mind at ease. She was kind, considerate, sharp and funny. Secretly, I hoped she would be the person to deliver my son.


    Now we are getting to the meat of my birth story. My last day before maternity leave was Friday, November 1st. I kid you not, I had my first contraction walking to my car leaving the building. It’s like my body knew labor and delivery was safe to occur. In my mind, I was having another bad Braxton Hicks cramp because I called the nurse a few days prior to confirm. I carried on business as usual. I went to the grocery store and everything. Me and Shnuggah were going to have burgers and fries that night. I remember buying more cheese. My cramps kept growing and I pushed my cart through the store like I didn’t have a baby ready to make an entrance. My mom called later and I told her what happened. Her response was crisp: “Yep. You’re in labor. Go to the hospital.”

    With no bags pack, Shnuggah and I scrounged up everything we thought we needed and flew to the hospital with burgers and fries in steaming zip lock bags.

    On a Friday night, we check in to triage. I was a half centimeter dilated, and they sent me home. What I didn’t realize at that time was, my body would have to work to get me dilated. That work meant days of painful contractions. So, I labored at home from Friday until the wee hours of Monday morning. Around one o’clock my son said, “Alright ya’ll Imma head out”. Literally.

    Imma Head Out GIF by memecandy - Find & Share on GIPHY


    My birth story is coming to an end. Sunday around 1:00 am, it got real. I could actually feel Langston kicking and moving to get out of my body. He was moving about in manner that caused me great concern. I could feel my baby was uneasy because the pattern of his moment grew more faint and unpredictable.

    We finally get admitted into a room. Because his heart rate kept dropping during contractions, I had to lay on my side. Laying on my side made the contractions feel worse, so I repeatedly asked if I could reposition myself.

    The doctor on duty at the time of my admittance, happened to be the nonchalant primary doctor. When she came in the one time to check on me I asked her about my laying position and her words were, “do whatever the nurse tells you.” Once again, she seemed not to care. But God. Her shift was scheduled to end at 7:00am and it was about that time.

    At 7:00 the Lit doctor came in ready.

    Amber Riley Hello GIF by Nobody’s Fool - Find & Share on GIPHY

    She comes into the room to check on me and my baby with a vibe that raised the energy. She was concerned Langston’s heart rate was dropping during every contraction. For a moment, we could even see his heart rate go flat on the monitor. It was scary. They attempted to monitor Langston’s heart rate closer by implanted in “internal monitor.” Chile, I got flipped over like a pancake and twisted like a pretzel when they tried to put that monitor inside me. It was awful. In that moment I felt more like an object than a person.


    My birth story is now taking an unexpected turn. The discomfort of them trying to place the monitor plus contractions weighed heavy on my mind and body. I became frightened. I started to shiver and panic. At that moment, the doctor said my son’s heart rate had dropped too low and I had to be rushed for an emergency Cesarean Section (C-Section). I faintly remember the doctor asking me for my consent, but I was so afraid of what they were saying and how I was feeling, I complied and said yes.

    Moving along, I’m in the operating room. Shivering, cold, panicking, and shocked. I see people in blue moving all around me in a scurry. Scrubbing arms, putting up drapes, making decisions for me and my baby. I was terrified. One doctor ask the lit doctor what kind of anesthesia to use, she recommended I be put to sleep because my body was in shock. I hear them all reassure me everything is going to be okay. Then, it went black. I was sleep. I don’t remember any dreams. Just black.

    The next thing I see is the sweetest site. My man holding and talking to my newborn son two feet away from me. My son was born at 7:31am November 4th.

    Til this day I have my questions about the emergency C-Section. I don’t know if the birth would have when smoother if I had just taken the epidural. I don’t know what happened to the fourth hamburger. And I still don’t know if my primary doctor genuinely thought all was well or if she just dismissed my concerns.

    What I do know is I learned these lessons:

    1.You Cannot Control Everything

    I wanted to have a natural birth. In fact, I planned to push my baby out without the help of an epidural and I did so, until an emergency arose. I wanted to deliver on my due date because that would have given me time to finish his blanket and get a mani pedi before delivery. I did not want a scar left on my body. In fact, I was so set on having things my way, I read no literature about Cesarean births because I just knew it would not have one. The joke was on me because I had no control over how my baby would make his entrance, and it was okay. The flow of things were perfect. He came out healthy and I did not have to have things my way.

    2. God is Faithful

    We came into the hospital at one am. Initially, the primary doctor I wasn’t as comfortable with was on duty, but soon after the Lit Doctor was scheduled to take over. The moment she clocked in, she took concern for me and my son and acted swiftly. Had it not been for her sharpness, who knows what would have happened. The Lit Doctor came in at 7:00am and my son was born healthy at 7:31. God is the only reason.

    3. The Body is Fragile, but life is precious

    Since having my baby I’ve read more about Black women and maternity health. The stories and statistics are alarming. The literature in conjunction with what I have experienced myself further proves how fragile the body is. We play superwoman a lot and often forget our bodies need love and relaxation just as much as the mind. I use to complain about my body and is imperfect features. In truth, it is the body that saves. It was the body that kept my son safe during the 9 months he lived there. Maternal health is no joke. The body is indeed fragile, but because life is precious it’s vital we take care of the vessel before, during, and after labor.


    Currently, to my right, my handsome son is sleeping peacefully. Soon, he’ll wake up smiling as he always does. He’ll be eager to kick and coo and show me so much love and joy. I could not ask for more. He is perfect. My love and my heart has grown so much due to his presence alone. My birth story was not perfect, but the outcome was. Upon his arrival my family and I cheered, loved, and celebrated. We’ve been celebrating since.

    As for my body, I am recovering slowly. I learned today, that I can’t job into harsh exercises and diets as I planned. She, me wanted to be sexy in 6 months, but deep scarring says different. For now, I’m taking it easy and my baby is loving the extra curves.

    Pay Homage:

    “As I started learning more about working in the NICU, I realized that a baby’s health is related to the health of the mother, and that the health of the mother is related to her community and to the circumstances of her life”

    Wanda Barfield


    1. Black women are 2 to 6 times more likely to die from complications of pregnancy than white women, depending on where they live.
    2. When the baby wants to come out, it will come.
    3. God is faithful.

    Pay Homage:

    Thanks for reading!

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  • Mommy-ing

    Why I Was Afraid to Share My Pregnancy News at Work

    So, I’m 17 weeks pregnancy, or was at the time this post was written. I’m currently 23 weeks. Yes. He’s coming fast, but I digress. One of the motifs of this experience was fear with a special side of being afraid of people knowing. It took me months to tell family, framily, and friends. The underling reasons for my privacy were not positive, but after thinking about faith, I quickly got over my concerns and began celebrating.


    17 weeks into this thing and my co-workers were buzzing. Two days ago after having a conversation with two co-workers about something unrelated, one of them goes, “you can’t stress because we have to keep that baby happy.” Mortified and surprised, all I could do was laugh. She asked, why are you laughing. Me: I haven’t been telling anyone. Her: I thought everyone knew. Second lady: smiling, yes, ma’am you’ve popped. That is when I realized I was showing. It was weird. I noticed my belly growing, but ultimately when I look in the mirror, I didn’t see any major changes. Depending on my clothing, there is no evidence all together.

    A few days later, after using the bathroom another co-worker goes, “when are you due?” At this point, the cat is all the way out the bag. Previously, I noticed the direct stares at my torso. I felt like I should randomly sing “Love on Top” at bus duty, drop the mic, and rub my baby bump for confirmation. That might be much, but why am I so afraid to share my good news? Most women need no reason at all to share, but me I’m Beyonce with the information.

    Break it down, B:

    Reason 1: I was afraid my administration would switch my classes.

    After 4 years of teaching, I’ve paid my dues and I feel so blessed to finally be teaching the courses I always wanted. Two courses are advance year long literature classes. The other is English 4, or 12 grade English. All seniors. Stress, but no real worries or behavioral issues. I felt blessed especially because I know I will need as little stress as possible during the final months of my pregnancy. Yet for some bizarre reason I’m worried my administration will take the courses away from me due to maternity leave.

    Reason 2: There is no ring on my finger.

    Now, I know this reason is judgmental toward myself, but the reality is, I always imagined being married first and having the entire package. While my love, partner, and at this point baby’s father is very much in the picture our relationship is secure and strong, and my ring could already be hidden in the house somewhere, it initially bothered me that things were happening backwards from my own plans.

    Reason 3: I don’t think there is a reason 3.

    On the contrary, as I’m writing this, I feel answers to my worries. In reference to reason 1, I used the phrase, “I am blessed” to finally get to teach the classes I always wanted. I also discussed the perfect alignment between my pregnancy and having a less stressful workload. I’m not one to believe in coincidences, so the fact God has provided stressless classes proves s/he is already working on my behalf. Second, if I feel blessed to have the course after all my hard due paying work, I should not expect the blessing to be taken away. God is in the blessing business not the opposite. Since the original draft of this post, I have even been promoted to lead the English 4 team and write the curriculum for the entire year. God is working. It’s up to me to trust the process.(Matthews 6: 33-34)

    In reference to reason 2, in time my vision will come together. I rather continue to cultivate something real than, be married for obligation, or be married too soon, have children, become unhappy, and pay divorce lawyers and court a grip. In the meantime, eff it, life happens, and quite frankly the joy I feel to be giving life outweighs my self-inflicted shame

    Lastly, ain’t no hiding. The baby is happy and telling it all. With that, I will say it loud. I’m bumping and I’m proud.

    Pay Homage:

    Unbow your head sister.

    from, If Beale Street Could talk


    1. We only worry when faith is absent.
    2. God’s plan, is the plan.
    3. Oh what a joy it is to live.


    Thank you for reading!

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  • Mommy-ing

    I’m Pregnant and My Life is Over!

    I’m pregnant and my life is over. At least that’s how some family members and peers see the news. Let me tell you something. Growing up the word “pregnancy” was next to a curse word. It’s wild. At almost 30 and flourishing in my career(s), pregnancy is still a curse word that needs to be whispered. But, what I say to the naysayers is this: suck a toe and here’s why.


    First of all, I’m pregnant with a beautiful baby boy!

    I’m elated. The joy I felt after reading the pee stick was incomparable. The GIF above is close, but still does not illustrate the feeling. Seeing my baby bump grow every day continues to fuel that joy. I can’t even concentrate at work. I’ll be honest. I keep day dreaming about my baby and his needs. Its amazing. Especially because I was told I would have a difficult time conceiving. I’m off topic, but bare with me. Naturally, my joy competes with my apprehensions. I questioned, can I continue to pursue my dreams? Can I still travel with my partner? Can we continue to live the fulfilling lives and reach our goals as a unit as we planned? Will I still be sexy after? I thought about it all. And yet, every question leads to the answer: Yes and you are blessed.

    Yet and still my community does not take this news in the same manner as I. Instead, I was met with comments such as,”I hope you did all that you wanted to do” and “your life is over. Or some family members who still have not talked to me since learning my news. The shit is trippy. Furthermore, I resent these comments for making me dig back into my bag of apprehensions and questioning the blessing. Nonetheless, I had to learn to tell the naysayers to suck a silent dick.(Matthew 10: 18-20)

    Break it down, B:

    I am a pre-mother at this point, so I don’t 100 percent know if what these negative Nancy’s are saying is true, but what I do know is me. What I do know is this entire experience is a blessing. What I do know is some women can’t do this or will have a hard time doing this, and God and this baby chose me–us to be parents. I do know that God’s will and purpose is divine and intentional. Whereas, this could have happened in my life in the past, but God—because there is no baby without sperm, egg, and God’s magic wand—blessed me with this gift at this point in time.

    Therefore, there is a reason. Therefore, it is time for me to become a mother for only God knows why. I do know that I continuously ask for God’s will to manifest in my life. I do know that I continuously ask for God to help refine and shape me into the woman I am destined to be. And one answer to those prayers seems to be, having a child as a part of my “becoming” process. I do know that my baby is already giving me a new mindset. I do know that my baby is the gas to my other wise declining drive. I do know this new responsibility will be scary, beautiful, exhausting and magnificent. I do know I’ve never felt more peace with who I am and where my life is headed until I look at the life that is growing inside me and around me as me and my love build our family and dreams together.

    I’ll leave with this. Sis, if you’re reading and you have gone through or is going through this right now, you are not alone despite the fact pregnancy can feel lonely. Know your beautiful self. Having this child and the experience connected to it will be what you make it.

    The truth is our lives as we know it is over, but God is creating a space for something more glorious. With that, if you stop pursuing your dreams and goals, then you stop. If you continue to make things happen for yourself, then they will happen. You have the power to make that happen or not. Having this baby is a part of your ever evolving life. What happens forward, though it will be difficult, is up to you. Ultimately, sis, you are blessed, for there is no greater gift than the ability to give life. Enjoy the process. Enjoy the journey. Enjoy what you are becoming.

    Pag Homage:

    I believe the choice to become a mother is the choice to become one of the greatest spiritual teachers there is.

    Oprah Winfrey


    1. Motherhood is both difficult and breathtaking.
    2. Every one has the right to experience life in the manner which makes them happy.
    3. Naysayers can eat a toe. Live your life boo.


    Thanks for reading!

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